V. No Problem Problem
"Look at Snape!"
Mary had to shout directly into Julie's ear in order to be heard. The whole school was cheering, a few hats flying into the air. The Sorting had just ended, Professor McGonagall had carried the hat out of the Hall and Dumbledore had stood up, arms spread wide, eyes shining.
"What?" shouted Julie back at Mary, equally impossible to hear.
"Look at Snape!"
She turned. Snape was looking in their direction, not joining in with the cheers (although his whole table was a deal quieter than the other three) his black eyes intent. Julie followed his gaze along the Gryffindor table to Lily Evans, who was sitting with Marlene and a few sixth years, laughing and whooping. Her hair had grown out to her shoulder blades over the summer, and her cheeks were flushed.
"What a fucking creep," said Julie in Mary's ear.
"Yeah, he gives me the shivers," the other girl replied, with a bit more delicacy.
The tables quieted down. Dumbledore's smile widened.
"In these troubled times," he said in a carrying voice, "there are many things that must be said to all of you. None of them should be heard on an empty stomach. Eat up!"
He sat down. The students cheered again, a bit more subdued.
Food appeared on the golden plates, and Julie grabbed for the mashed potatoes.
"D'you reckon the new Defense teacher will be any good?" said Mary with the air of one determined to make conversation.
Julie looked up at the staff table. There was only one unfamiliar face—a thin, blond man of indeterminate age, poking fastidiously at his roast beef.
"He looks sort of—spindly," offered Julie.
Mary rolled her eyes, apparently disappointed in Julie's observation.
They sat in silence for a while, any awkwardness masked by the clattering of forks and knives and the loud voices of the other students, before Mary tried again.
"Have a good summer?"
"Great, yeah."
"Good."
There were loud, gleeful shouts coming from the other end of the table—someone had spilled pumpkin juice all down the tablecloth. Behind them, two Hufflepuffs were screaming with laughter. The enchanted ceiling darkened steadily, and Julie concentrated on her food.
When the last crumbs of pudding had vanished from the golden plates, Dumbledore stood up once more. There was a sudden, sharp rise in the noise level of the students, and then quiet.
"Now that we have all eaten our fill, I have a few announcements to make," the headmaster began, .
"Once again, we have a new staff member. Professor Abbott will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year."
There was a polite round of applause for Professor Abbott, who half-stood and nodded rather feebly.
"Now, on to more serious matters: as all of you should be aware, the Wizarding World is currently at war against a man who styles himself Lord Voldemort."
There was a collective shiver across the hall. Every eye was now on Dumbledore—except, Julie noticed, Evan Rosier and Oliver Wilkes, who were thumb-wrestling at the Slytherin table. Farther down, Aurelia Malfoy was picking at her nails, and to her other side, sitting by himself, was Regulus Black. He was giving his complete attention to the headmaster, thin face intent and focused.
"Most of you also know that over the summer several of Voldemort's followers escaped from the wizard prison, Azkaban," Dumbledore went on, surveying the hall over his half-moon glasses. "In light of these circumstances, particularly stringent security measures have been implemented here at Hogwarts. Irksome as they may be, I ask that all of you please be mindful of the new rules, particularly those forbidding all students from wandering the corridors or the grounds at night. Let me also remind you that entering the forest unsupervised is strictly forbidden."
Someone coughed loudly a little ways down the table. Julie thought it might be Sirius Black, because it was definitely Remus Lupin who shushed him.
"Students in the third year and older are still allowed to visit Hogsmeade," the headmaster continued, "but there are several Aurors stationed in the village and at the school gates. Mr. Filch will be searching for any Dark items as students go in and out of the castle—a full list of these, comprising some four hundred and fifty seven items, can be found on Mr. Filch's office door."
"The Ministry of Magic and the staff of Hogwarts have gone to great lengths to ensure your safety; I am sure everyone here will make sure that their efforts haven't been wasted."
He paused, looking around the hall, and then smiled. "And now I am sure you are all ready to go to bed, so good night to all!"
There was a pause, as though everyone was startled by the abrupt shift, and then the students broke out into a loud, excited chatter as they stood up.
"I didn't know," said Julie to Mary over the colossal scraping of benches.
"Didn't know what?"
"About the Death Eaters who escaped this summer. I didn't know."
"Don't you read the wizarding newspapers?" Mary asked, not unkindly.
Julie let out a short laugh by way of an answer.
"Decius Bagnold was killed as well," Mary was saying. "Head of the Department of Mysteries. And—oh! There's Emma. I have to go."
Mary hurried off to meet a blond fifth year, and Julie left the Hall alone. Lily was ahead of her, chivvying along a straggling line of first years. Someone crashed into Julie, a Hufflepuff boy, and he ran off without apologizing. She stood still for a moment, uncertain, surrounded by a stream of black robed students, and then, spotting a familiar, very messy head of black hair moving up the grand staircase, she took off, ducking under a seventh-year's outstretched arm, following the rest of the Gryffindors down a long corridor.
"Hey, James! James!"
The boy turned around. As usual, he looked a bit as if he'd just stuck his finger into an electrical socket, his hair sticking up every which way, his glasses a bit crooked on his nose. He grinned easily at Julie, and motioned for his friends to keep going without him.
"I wanted to ask you something," said Julie, and then stopped. She couldn't quite think of how to phrase her question. James stood there waiting while the crowd thinned out around them.
"What?" he said finally, mystified.
Julie shook her head to clear it. "You know what? It's not important. Did you make team Captain?
"Yeah, I did," said James proudly. "Tryouts on Saturday."
"Oh god," groaned Julie, "you aren't making the whole team try out, are you?"
"No, of course not, but we still need a Keeper. I want everyone there, so we can see how the new person fits in."
"Right."
He stood there for a moment longer, unsure as to whether the conversation was over or not. Finally he said a little awkwardly, "Well, see you around, Fraser," and left.
Julie muttered a swear to the empty corridor. What about this was so hard? It was a simple question—do you know what your dad called about? Do our parents know each other? She felt as though she was missing something—this was important, really important, and she didn't know why, and she didn't want to share it with anyone until she figured that out. Besides, she didn't like talking about her family with other people—and these days it could be dangerous.
The footsteps of the students tramping off to their dormitories had long ceased to echo through the corridors when Julie shook herself out of her thoughts and started to move. Something about the empty halls made her anxious, and after passing just a few classroom doors she started to run.
Julie woke up first the next morning, as she usually did, slipping out of the dormitory before seven o'clock. The Great Hall was not even half-full. Remus Lupin was sitting at one end of the Gryffindor table, nose in a book, and at the other, Chris Thwaite, Julie's boyfriend of last winter. She sat down rather closer to Remus and helped herself to scrambled eggs and porridge.
Niamh Fairchild swung herself down onto the next seat, and Julie turned to her in surprise. She had been relatively close with Niamh for most of the last five years—closer than she had been with any other girl, certainly. (Marlene was a twerp, in Julie's estimation, Lily was a swot and a smart-aleck, and even Mary had a certain holier-than-thou air about her.) Near the end of fifth year, however, Niamh had just stopped talking to her.
But here she was, looking to both sides as if to make sure they were alone, and then saying in a low, earnest voice, "Julie, can I tell you something?"
"I guess so," Julie answered, a little coldly.
Niamh poured herself a goblet of pumpkin juice and then stared into it for a bit. Then she looked Julie in the eye and took a deep breath to speak.
"Niamh!"
She looked around. Siobhan was sitting at the Ravenclaw table, waving her sister over.
"Sorry, gotta go," she mumbled, and jumped up, leaving her goblet behind.
"What was the…bloody point then…" Julie trailed off.
"Was that Niamh Fairchild?" asked someone behind Julie. Sirius Black had stopped behind her and was watching Niamh move across the room with narrowed eyes. "I thought she wasn't talking to you."
"What's it to you?" Julie retorted. It was too early in the morning to be polite. (Julie's schedule went something like this: midnight to noon was too early for niceties; noon to midnight, too late.)
He shrugged elegantly, brushing his hair behind his ear, and she found herself wondering whether he practiced the gesture in a mirror.
"Her sister's dating Mulciber."
Julie let out a short laugh. "No, she's not."
He raised his eyebrows.
"Mulciber looks like a toad," she added, to clarify. "No one in their right mind would go out with him."
Sirius shrugged again. "I heard otherwise."
She raised her eyebrows in turn and then went back to her breakfast. It didn't really matter to her who Siobhan Fairchild chose to spend time with, and her porridge was getting cold. She felt, rather than saw, Sirius move on, walking to the other end of the table.
She snuck a look at the Ravenclaw table. Siobhan was talking to her sister, almost whispering in her ear, and Niamh was frowning, fiddling with the marmalade rather than look Siobhan in the eye.
And then Professor McGonagall was upon her with a stack of schedules, and Julie let it pass.
"Here you go, Miss Fraser, everything seems in order," she said.
Julie took the offered paper without a word.
Monday, 9:00 AM. Potions.
She grimaced—she didn't dislike Potions, but she couldn't stand Professor Slughorn—and then stood up, slung her bag over her shoulder and hurried out.
There were already a few Slytherins waiting outside the dungeon, and Julie pulled a book out of her bag to avoid having to talk to them. As the other students arrived chatting amongst themselves, Julie buried herself in The Woman in White and ignored them all.
A few minutes after nine, Professor Slughorn opened the doors to the dungeon from the inside. "Come in," he said genially, his bald head shining.
The students stepped inside rather nervously. There were four cauldrons sitting on the teacher's desk, all merrily bubbling away and emitting variously colored smoke, or steam. Julie sat herself down in her usual desk in the back corner and traded her novel for her Potions textbook.
"Now, if you'll all direct your attention this way, I've prepared something rather special…"
The door clicked open and shut. Professor Slughorn looked up, saw who it was, smiled, and continued.
"...just to show you what sort of things will be expected of you at the NEWT level."
"Hi."
Julie looked around. It was Lily Evans, speaking in a quiet, breathy voice, standing next to her desk at the back of the dungeons.
"Can I sit with you?"
Julie took a moment to process this. She should have realized, of course, that Lily wouldn't sit in the front and center with Snape anymore, that they wouldn't be partners in everything. And of course she, Julie, was sitting at the only desk with one empty seat—but she liked sitting alone, she chose to sit alone.
"Sure."
Lily sat down and started to arrange her ingredients by size and color. If nothing else, thought Julie, this would probably bring her Potions grade up.
"Why're you late?" whispered Julie.
Lily shushed her, but not very strongly. She seemed more out of breath than anything. Julie rolled her eyes.
"Pay attention!" hissed Lily.
Julie scowled, opened her textbook to the required page and began to draw Professor Slughorn in the margin. She was a terrible artist, but her subject mostly required a lot of circles—round head, round stomach…
Mum would kill me if she knew I was drawing in class, she thought, and she actually started to listen to the lecture.
Even though the sixth years had fewer classes, they had more work than ever. Their long breaks were filled with endless essays and thick textbooks, and by the end of the first week most of them were starting to worry about their absurd amounts of homework. The sixth year dorms already had a post-Easter break sense of tangible stress—"and this is the first week!" Marlene McKinnon would moan daily before setting aside her textbooks and going outside with her broomstick. Julie stayed in, writing far into the night, when the common room was emptied of all the younger students. When the notice was posted for Keeper tryouts on Saturday, Julie thought about practicing (she hadn't flown all summer) and then she let Mary nag her into writing her History of Magic essay instead. I'll practice Saturday morning, she told herself, and she started to avoid James in the corridors, just in case he was thinking of asking her if she was ready for tryouts.
Of course, James generally made himself hard to avoid.
"Oops! Sorry, Scottie."
Julie looked down at the parchment airplane sitting smugly atop her Potions essay. She lifted it and breathed a sigh of relief—the ink had already dried, and nothing had happened to her homework.
"The wings aren't balanced," she snapped and tossed the airplane back at James.
"Right you are," he said easily, catching it and beginning to unfold it.
Julie was sitting alone against the wall, and James was sitting by the fireplace with the usual suspects—Sirius, Remus and Peter. A few seventh years were sitting in a group across the room, and Samantha Vickens, the Gryffindor Seeker, had fallen asleep with her head on a table. Other than that, the room was empty.
The twelve uses of dragon blood, discovered by Albus Dumbledore throughout the nineteen-forties…she would like to fall asleep as well—it was late, she had not slept more than six hours in one stretch the whole week, and anyway Potions had always been one of her least favorite subjects…
...fine, red ink…there was a stain on the table in front of her, perhaps it was blood…removes magical stains…would dragon blood remove a bloodstain though? … finally, as an oven cleaner… Julie tried to imagine Albus Dumbledore cleaning his oven, long silver beard trailing on the linoleum…But we turn to the seventh use now, that of a strengthener in various Potions …her eyelids were fluttering, her vision blurring…
One of the seventh years sneezed very loudly. Julie's head snapped up.
"Get it together," she muttered to herself. She stood up, trying to clear her head, and walked over to the window. The grounds were dark and shadowy, the trees on the edge of the Forbidden Forest waving in the light breeze, as if they were grasping for something. A perfect crescent moon hung over the forest, lending a flat, surreal light to the whole scene.
All was still, and with a small sigh she returned to her chair, riffling through the pages of her textbook until she found her place again. …a strengthener in various Potions, of almost unparalleled effectiveness…
Surely there's a more effective way to do my homework. Mary had finished hours ago and gone to bed, and even as Julie read the same line for the third time, Remus was standing up from his chair, stacking his books and saying his goodnights. The seventh years stood up and went to their dormitory as well, and then Peter was leaving as well, after breaking his quill tip for the fourth time.
The fire was crackling and Samantha Vickens was snoring softly. Sirius and James were whispering to each other as they looked over a parchment together.
Julie had just decided to give it up for the day and go to bed when she heard a small shuffling on the girls' staircase. She looked up. Her sister was stepping cautiously into the room, sleepily rubbing her eyes with her fists. Amanda was wearing her blue flannel pajamas and her auburn hair, a few shades darker than Julie's, was pulled back into a loose braid.
"Hey, Julie," she said softly, coming up to Julie's desk.
"Mm?"
"Can I tell you something?"
"Yeah, get on with it," said Julie.
"I heard a couple Slytherins talking today, and one of them said something kind of weird." Amy was pulling at the hem of her pajama shirt—the lowest button was coming loose.
"Who?"
"Mulciber, I think, and Snape. They were talking about Dumbledore's speech—you know, how he said that entrances to the castle are being guarded and that packages coming in are being inspected—"
"Oi," Julie cut her sister off by grabbing the hand she was picking at her shirt with. "Stop doing that. Reparo." The button reattached itself. "All right, carry on."
Amy rolled her eyes. "Anyway, then Snape said something—something like, there are other ways to get in, without getting past the Aurors."
"Is that it?" said Julie dismissively. "He's an idiot, he was probably just trying to impress his nasty friends."
But Amy still looked troubled. "No, I don't think so," she said very firmly.
"Hang on—Snape said what?" said a new voice. James had gotten up from his chair and come over to the table without either of the girls noticing. Sirius was standing behind him with a very bored expression.
Julie closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair, sighing theatrically. "It's none o' your business, Potter."
"It's Amy, right?" said James pleasantly, brushing Julie off completely.
"Yeah."
"I'm sorry—d'you mind—could you tell me what you heard?"
Amy gave the older boy a probing look, and apparently he passed her test, because she told him. "He said that the Aurors don't know every way into the castle. And then Mulciber said something I couldn't hear, and then Snape said something about—about how anyone could tell, because, um, because you and your friends have all that illegal stuff from Zonko's," she finished apologetically.
James exchanged a very dark look with Sirius and then turned back to Amy.
"Well, your sister is probably right that he's just—you know—bragging—but if you hear anything else you should let me know."
Julie stretched her foot under the table to gently kick James on the shin.
"Er—let Julie know," he finished awkwardly.
"Right," said Amy. She took a moment to make a face at her sister before she turned to go. Her braid swung behind her, even as a pendulum, as she jogged up the staircase.
There was a thick silence.
"Well," said Julie.
"You idiot, Padfoot," hissed James with unexpected anger. Sirius, stony faced, flicked his gaze from Julie to James, a clear not in front of her look.
Julie leaned her head back to look at the two boys, stretching her legs languidly. They were both wearing extremely shifty faces.
"So," she said delicately. "Are there ways into the castle that the Aurors don't know about?"
"Of course there are," she answered herself. "Snape would be right—that would be how you lot smuggle all the sweets and alcohol in."
Neither James nor Sirius said anything. Samantha Vickens, however, let out a massive snore, and all three of them jumped and then threw her dirty looks.
They took a moment to recover themselves before Julie spoke again. "And Snape does know about these secret passages?"
Sirius shook his head just the tiniest bit at his friend, but James grimaced apologetically and said, turning to Julie, "Yeah, he does."
"So he could get out of the castle whenever he wants..."
"It's worse than that, actually," James cut in. "He could let anyone in, too, if he told them. Which means—"
"Death Eaters," said Julie heavily. "The Death Eaters have a way in." She thought about that for a while and then looked up at the boys. "You both look very guilty," she pointed out.
"It was kind of our fault," Sirius explained. "Kind of my fault, actually."
"Nice," smirked Julie, and Sirius narrowed his eyes at her. She jumped to her feet, pushing her tiredness aside. "So, possible solutions. You could modify Snape's memory…although I suppose you'd have to modify Mulciber's as well. And God only knows who else Snape told. You could set off a load of dynamite in the passage and collapse it…"
"No, you really couldn't," said Sirius quellingly. Julie scowled at him.
"Actually," said James thoughtfully, "This might not be a problem at all. No, I'm serious!" he added before Julie could interject. "Even if people could get past the gates, they'd still have to get from there through the actual castle door, and there must be defenses there, right? And—Dumbledore knows about the passages."
"Oh," said Julie. She blinked. "Well, I s'pose that's all right then."
James yawned and then turned to Sirius. "You know Remus is going to kill you."
"Yeah, sure," said Sirius with an ugly expression on his face. "I'm going to bed." And he turned and walked over to the boys' dormitory stairs, pounding his feet on the steps a little louder than necessary.
James looked after him with equal parts irritation and fondness on his face.
"Well," said Julie quietly, "I guess I should go too."
"Should we wake up Samantha?"
Julie considered the sleeping girl. "I'm not going to. You know what she's like in early morning practices. Listen, if you hear anything weird about Snape, tell me."
"Ditto."
Somehow, Julie thought as she made her way up the long, winding staircase, she doubted James would actually tell her if he did hear anything about Snape. She wasn't quite sure that she would tell him either. She changed and brushed her teeth in the dark, and before she went to bed she walked passed Niamh's bed to the window. The wind had picked up, and the trees on the edge of the forest were bending and swaying.
She turned and went back to her own bed. It wasn't until she was curled under the covers with the curtains drawn, drifting off, that she realized that she wasn't the only girl who had stayed up late. Niamh Fairchild's bed was empty.
